Memories
by Ravensbleeding
Summary: He wonders if maybe, maybe, some of it was all his fault.


Okay, so this story was inspired by Hey-Diddle-Diddle's stories 'This and Here and Now' and 'Maybe'. I read them both (they're wonderfully written) and was suddenly inspired to write something that maily focused on Iruka and his thoughts and feelings.

So I've been told that this isn't my best, but oh well. I'm not really sure what my best is, but everyone's opinion differs, right? So maybe this one person thinks it sucks, but there are others who might find it enjoyable. And speaking of enjoyable, I do hope you enjoy reading it!

I didn't know whether to rate this K, or K+, or T, so I just rated it T to be super-safe and called it a day. (I'm not very good at rating things...how sad, right?)

I don't own Naruto. I wish I did, just like almost everyone else out there in the world that writes Naruto fanfiction but I don't (Oh how sad).

* * *

Sometimes, when it's really lonely at night, he gets up and makes himself a cup of tea and some ramen and sits on the couch and just _thinks_. He sips the tea quietly, savoring the taste; He always was one to take things slowly. The ramen just sits on the table, cooling. He'd never think about _eating_ it; it's just there for show, for memories. It brings back happier times, innocent times. Well, more innocent times. Times where heartache wasn't something you just lived with, times where seeing people with dead looks in their eyes _wasn't normal_, times where hearing about someone's death sparked _something_ in you and was not just another ordinary thing, just something that you blew off because it was really nothing big these days.

He always wondered if somehow all of this was _his_ fault, if he'd made a big mistake somewhere down the line and this was how he was being punished for it – by watching everything and everyone else around him crumble. He knew it was foolish to think like that but it never left his mind. It was always there, nagging at him in the back of his head. And most of the time he was strong enough to push it to the back of his mind and pretend he wasn't so foolish. But on nights like these – such peaceful, quiet nights – he couldn't help but give into temptation and dwell on it for at least a few minutes.

He sips his tea again, the taste barely registering on him. In a few minutes he'll be so far lost in his own thoughts to even know what it's supposed to taste like. Sometimes he'll have forgotten that he'd been drinking anything at all and his cup will just sit there in his lap, his hands curled around like it's some kind of lifeline, the only thing that can pull him out of his thoughts. Sometimes it works and within a few hours he's back to normal and cleaning the cup and throwing out the ramen and then he goes back to bed to try to get some sleep.

And sometimes it doesn't work and he'll remain lost in whatever thought he's in and it'll be many more than just a few hours before he's back to normal. Occasionally he'll be this way for a day or two, the outside world forgotten at the moment. Tsunade will have sent in a replacement for him without him having to say a word. She knows what he's going through and figures that it's best if he's left to his own devices for the time being; he needs to work things out on his own and if he ever needed help he'd ask for it, not drown in his own foolish selfishness.

Even though most of his time is spent thinking about the past and how things could have gone down differently, he doesn't mind thinking about the people close to him. Like Naruto, for instance. He figures that if he ever made any mistakes earlier on in his life, before Naruto grew up and left the nest so to speak, he'd made up for them by taking care of Naruto. Naruto, with his happy-go-lucky personality. Naruto, who pushed through everything with a grin and bright blue eyes.

Naruto, his everything.

But those were past times, and it's been long since he used to mother the blonde boy. Now he has nothing to help him cover his mistakes. He likes to remember when he took care of Naruto; it brings back small smiles to his face; pained smiles, yes, but those are considered smiles nonetheless. But those were past times, and even though he really does enjoy thinking about his blonde student, his friend, his…no…Past times are past times and they hurt no matter how many times he looks them over.

For a second his eyes close, and he is drowning in old memories. Memories where people are smiling, children are laughing, and Naruto is still _there_. Memories where friends got together with friends to just gossip and catch up on how their kids are doing, not get together to discuss burial plans. Memories where families ate together and laughed and joked and parents asked their children how school went, not just looked at each other as they passed in the halls and silently asked how they were coping with the loss of their brother or mother. Memories where lovers strolled down the streets looking at all the wonderful things for sale and kissed and held one another, not where they holed themselves up and didn't talk, didn't want to connect anymore because one of them might be dead the next day, assuming of course, that they weren't one of the lovers that had already lost their significant other.

He took in a slow breath at those particular memories, trying to choke back the sudden onslaught of memories about Naruto. He'd watched themselves fall apart. Watched as Naruto's smile faded away, watched as blue eyes lost their spark, watched as Naruto slowly closed himself up. And he hadn't done a thing. He was supposed to have been there, tried to help. But he'd become one of those lovers, one of the ones who didn't want to become closer again, because with Naruto going out and fighting like he had been, he was sure that Naruto would be dead in a few days.

And those days had passed, turned into weeks, turned into months, and Naruto was still there, just a shell of himself. Everyone told him not to blame himself, that it was the war that had changed Naruto, but he knew in his heart that it was his fault.

And now Naruto was gone…

His hold on his teacup tightened as he brought it to his mouth and took a sip, the tea in the cup completely cold. He set the cup down on the table and stood up. His eyes briefly caught on the bowl of ramen. He stood there, staring at it. For a second it looked like he would just leave it there, just let it sit, cold and icky now, but he reached down and scooped it up. He took a step towards the kitchen, then turned and threw the bowl of ramen against the wall, the bowl shattering, noodles and juice staining the wall and raining down into a puddle on the floor.

And Iruka fell to his knees, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed.

* * *

So yes, it's slightly IrukaxNaruto. Maybe a little more than slightly. But it's when Naruto's older, not when he's like, twelve or thirteen.

So this story leaves a lot of questions to be asked. Like, "What's really up with Konoha?" and, "Why is everything going wrong?" Well, pretty much Konoha is at war with the Sound and it's not going too well as I'm sure you can tell.

And for those of you that are like, "What happened to Naruto?" well, you can come up with anything that you feel like on this one. You could say he died on a mission, left the village, dumped Iruka, I dunno. Maybe Sasuke stole him and made him his sex slave. Maybe he was eaten by rabid pink bunnies. Whatever. I don't know. I'm sure you can come up with great things.

Oh, pretty please leave a review! It only takes about twnety seconds of your time, and I do accept anonymous ones! So please, please leave one! (Yes, I'm begging you!)

Anyways, have a nice day, afternoon, morning, evening, you know…


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